Into the Frying Pan

You panned science, chose fever
dream cures – drank bleach,
cow piss, gave Tide pods

a shot. What not to believe
in – Greek gods, Tarot, Tao,
totalitarianism? Pick

your way to Pan’s
cave in the woods, pay
the piper but don’t

wake him or he’ll cry
panic. Deposit your dues
at the entrance, creep home.

Hold your breath. The
panacea’s in the beaker
except there’s doubt

in the flocks of wild things.
Guess we’ll see
how it plays out,

whose tune we dance to.
Not much else to do.
The question is who

it hurts waiting for
the pan scales to dip in
your favour – for the change.

See the source image

15 thoughts on “Into the Frying Pan

  1. I had no idea about “Pan” being at the root of pandemic. How cool or, I guess scary (as you point out). Not a very reliable individual in Greek myth! Wonderful poem. So many delicious lines. I especially liked the rhythms and line break of this part: “Guess we’ll see / how it plays out, / whose tune we dance to.” I think you may also be the only poet ever to use “Tide pods” as part of a poem. Also loved the image. All of this was very well done. Thanks for sharing.

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    • Pan was definitely a “bad boy” as poor Echo would know. Another fun Pan fact is that Milton created the word Pandemonium to mean the capital city of hell in Paradise Lost – just the kind of word-nerd fact that gives me shivers. I’m glad you enjoyed the poem and the introduction of Tide pods to the poetic lexicon. You read it here first!

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  2. I may have told you before: poetry and I do not mix. Some special element is lacking in me that allows access to an entire body of literary goodies.

    But this? This I got – I read it though, felt the disjointedness, the poking p’s, and I liked it.

    Also: the image? Perfect accompaniment.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I try really hard not to write the kind of poetry that requires a microscope or a telescope or any special equipment or knowledge. But I do enjoy wordplay and I’m pleased you noted the preponderance of ‘p’s and the disjointed feeling of the line breaks. it is a disjointed time. I toggle between anger, despair, fear, and anxiety. When I write I can let some of it out and let it go. Thank god for writing. And thank you for commenting, Maggie.

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    • Hi Lucia, So nice to see you pop up here! Maybe my subconscious was at work when I wrote this a few months ago but I swear I did not have any individual in mind. Rather, I was thinking about the wide swath of people who pick and choose their beliefs (science, religion, anti-science, anti-religion – name your personal bugaboo) according to individual convenience rather than community good. Then I Iooked up the word pandemic and saw its root was “pan” and noticed all the other words that start with pan and off went my brain.

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    • To be clear, I was not writing about you-know-who but the vast numbers of people who can’t follow simple public health practices for the good of the community. Though you were not alone in your assumption that this was about “him”, as you can see from the other comments!

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"The river flows both ways." (Margaret Laurence)

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